


Baze Gaze

by peppermintquartz



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: ...eventually, Gen, M/M, Pre-Canon, Young Love, also a ton of OCs, teenage Baze, teenage Chirrut, temple days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-29 23:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10864593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermintquartz/pseuds/peppermintquartz
Summary: “You're staring again.”Chirrut blinked but didn't turn his head. He was too busy admiring the view. “What? No I'm not.”“Yes, you are,” Fedan said in a singsong voice. “Stare a little longer and you'll start drooling. I hope he sees you then. When you start drooling.”---Baze Malbus is the golden boy of the Temple of the Whills.Chirrut has a huge crush on him, but he knows Baze Malbus doesn't even know he exists.Something changes that. (Probably the Force.)





	1. Chapter 1

“You're staring again.”

Chirrut blinked but didn't turn his head. He was too busy admiring the view. “What? No I'm not.”

“Yes, you are,” Fedan said in a singsong voice. “Stare a little longer and you'll start drooling. I hope he sees you then. When you start drooling.”

Now Chirrut glared at Fedan. “I am _not_ going to drool!”

The other acolyte folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, his multi-faceted eyes flickering from cyan to umber-gold. “Just tell him how you feel about him. No, not _that_ feeling. The actual affectionate feeling, where you want to hold his hand and tell him how beautiful you find him.”

Chirrut pointed at him warningly. “Get out of my head, Fedan. And _stay_ _out_.”

“Then think of something a little more decent.” Fedan craned his neck and smiled. “I guess, for a human, he's not too bad.”

“Shut up,” Chirrut groused, feeling heat creep up his face.

“I'll shut up when you stop with your Baze gaze.”

“Don't call it that-”

Someone behind them cleared their throat. The two acolytes turned around guiltily. Master Olovai, head of the acolytes, frowned down at them. “Idling, are we?”

Chirrut and Fedan leaped out of the chairs. “No, Master Olovai!”

“Then hop to your chores. Especially you, Imwe, I catch you slacking again, you're on rations for the next two months.”

“Master Olovai, I'm _already_ on rations-”

“Three, Imwe.”

“Sorry, Master Olovai.”

Fedan dragged Chirrut off before he could say anything else and get into more trouble. As they scurried back to their duties in the temple square, Chirrut could not help casting an eye back over his shoulder at the young man near the gates, preparing to go on patrol with the other senior acolytes.

Baze Malbus.

Now that he had his sixth belt, Baze was allowed to grow out his hair in the manner of his clan. It made Chirrut long to run his fingers through the thick wavy strands, to play with it. To weave braids and bells and flowers into it.

“You are doing the Baze gaze again, Chirrut,” Fedan murmured, and pulled him towards their abandoned brooms. “You know, for someone claiming to be able to multitask, you can't do anything else when he's around.”

Chirrut pouted and began sweeping. “It's not my fault he's so... so _Baze_. I just want to get to know him.”

Of course, there were a lot of other things Chirrut Imwe wanted to do with Baze Malbus. Fedan, who had mild telepathic abilities, sometimes smacked him on the back of his head for projecting his very vivid imagination too strongly.

It wasn't as though there was a chance that Baze Malbus would ever know Chirrut's existence. He was the golden boy of the temple: devout, intelligent, diligent, pious, and popular. Baze didn't go out to make friends with other acolytes. They flocked to him, to bask in his warm, wry humor, and his easy acceptance of their foibles. They admired him for all his qualities. Chirrut did too, but he was most focused on the older acolyte's physical attributes.

Even from afar, Chirrut could tell that Baze was strong. He was built solidly, like a kyber elaph in the legends, capable of bearing NaJedha on his broad shoulders. Grokul, one of Chirrut's peers, had sniffed disdainfully at how thick Baze was around his trunk, but Chirrut thought that was part of the appeal. He wanted to wrap his arms around Baze's middle and feel for himself just how sturdy the young man was.

For all his heft, Baze moved swiftly and surely in the sparring ring. His grace was like an animal's, every move instinctive and purposeful. Chirrut worked hard in zama-shiwo just so he could perhaps have a chance of meeting Baze in the sparring circle.

If he had a few fantasies about grappling with Baze Malbus in other places, it was no one's business but his own.

***

The first test for the fifth duan was the next day, so the masters let the students off early to prepare themselves for it. Most turned to meditation, but a half-dozen went to the hot springs under the temple to relax and unwind. The water smelled vaguely of eggs, but it had therapeutic qualities.

Chirrut liked the grotto. There was always a calm corner somewhere that he could settle in for a good soak, and it was ideal for letting his mind empty. Noise echoed and reverberated in the cave, but it just set the tiny kyber crystals in the rock singing, and Chirrut could always let his thoughts blank out when he listened to the crystals.

Except this time, apparently.

Despite soaking in the hot water in his favorite corner of the eerily-lit grotto, Chirrut could not calm himself down. He _needed_ to clear this test, he had to, because it would bring him a step closer to Baze Malbus.

Of course, Baze would make Guardian long before Chirrut would, but still! There was a chance that Chirrut could clear the sixth duan as well, and then he could get to know Baze Malbus the person, and not just watch him from afar. Especially with the throng of adoring, simpering new acolytes who loved to rush up to him and ask him a million personal questions.

The thought of everyone else being able to approach Baze easily soured something in Chirrut. He pushed aside the thought. It wasn't something he could control, and he would be hypocritical if he said he wished he didn't want to know everything about Baze Malbus.

Deciding that the hot springs were not helping, Chirrut returned to his room. He intended to put away his damp towel and sort out the laundry, but as he put away his things, he realized that the rust starbird he always wore around his neck was gone. How could he have not noticed its loss?

Frantically, he rummaged through his belongings. “Come on, come on, where are you?”

Groluk sauntered in, dabbing at his bright turquoise hair. “What's wrong, Chirrut?”

“I-I lost my starbird,” said Chirrut, peering under his narrow cot.

“Have you tried retracing your steps?” asked Groluk, coming over to Chirrut's bed to help him search.

Everyone in fourth duan knew what the starbird meant to Chirrut. Tease him about anything, and he'd give back as good as he got, but touch his starbird without permission or insult it? Chirrut knocked out nearly all the teeth of the last acolyte who tried.

Chirrut sat back on his heels and chewed on a thumbnail. “I still had it when I went to the springs, but I was preoccupied when I returned...”

“Try the springs then. I'll keep looking here.” Groluk waved aside Chirrut's thanks.

Racing down the stairs in his headlong manner, Chirrut barely noticed that the floor was slippery when he got to the lowest level. His foot skidded and he tumbled forward wildly with a yell.

Surprisingly, he did not crash onto the stone tiles. Instead, he was in the strong, beefy arms of a very familiar acolyte.

Baze Malbus peered down at him. “Are you alright?”

Chirrut's cheeks were blushing so hotly, he was astonished that his head didn't catch on fire. “I – uh, it w-was, um. Thank you. I mean. Yes, y-yes I'm, I'm fine. I'm fine.”

Baze smiled, his kind brown eyes twinkling. Beside him, another senior acolyte – Vardann, Chirrut later recalled when his brain was functioning again – laughed and patted Baze on his shoulder.

“I told you, the juniors will be throwing themselves at you once you grow out your hair,” Vardann teased.

“Shut it, Var,” said Baze with a faintly embarrassed grin. Chirrut quickly straightened and resisted the urge to neaten himself. “What's the rush, brother...? I'm sorry, I don't know your name.”

“I-I'm, um, I'm Chirrut. Chirrut Imwe. Fourth duan.” Chirrut gulped. “Sorry. I was – I shouldn't have run down the stairs, but I wanted to... I'm sorry, I have to go look for something I dropped.”

“I'll help.” Baze nudged Vardann's elbow. “How about you?”

Vardann rolled her large gray eyes. “I would, but Master Edos wants me to copy out the Lai sutras for the southern chapter.”

“Guess it's just me and Chirrut then.”

Chirrut blinked. Then he waved his hands wildly in front of him. “Y-you don't have to, I mean, um. It's just a starbird charm that I may have dropped in the springs, it's nothing that important, you don't have to. I mean, I'm sure you've better things to do.”

“If it was important enough that you risk breaking your neck over,” said Baze, “it's important. Come, to the springs.”

As they headed off, Chirrut caught a glimpse of Vardann staring thoughtfully at the departing Baze. It made Chirrut feel worse than ever.

***

They scoured the dressing area for the starbird charm, though every now and then Chirrut would steal glances at Baze. Bent over, the older acolyte's tunic and belt tightened deliciously around his waist and showed off his broad back. Chirrut had to swallow a few times and remind himself to focus.

It was only a short while before Baze exclaimed in triumph, “Found it! I think.” He pointed to something in the nearest pool. “Is that your charm?”

“It must have fallen in when I waded out,” said Chirrut when he came to see for himself. Then he hesitated. “I-I'll get it. Thank you, Brother Baze, for your assistance.”

“You're welcome. But let's see if that's your charm before you thank me. Here, I can hold your clothes.”

To get in, Chirrut would have to remove his pants and tunic. If it were any other acolyte, Chirrut would have stripped already, but this was _Baze Malbus_. With a swooping feeling in his stomach, Chirrut shucked off his tunic and pants, keeping his undershorts on, and handed them to the other acolyte. He deliberately did not look at Baze's expression. He knew he was not unattractive to many, but in front of Baze Malbus, he felt about as appealing as a tiloo stick-bug, all limbs and bony joints.

With his eyes closed against the water, Chirrut scooped about in the sandy bottom of the pool, and grasped a disc-shaped thing. When he emerged from the water, he was disappointed. It was a charm, yes, but this was just a flat disk with someone's name etched into it.

“No, this isn't mine,” he said. Then he sighed. “I guess I'll just have to give up looking for my starbird. I need to prepare for tomorrow's test.” The loss hurt. Tears welled up in his eyes and he sniffed roughly.

Baze reached down an arm to help hoist the younger man out of the water. “Sorry you couldn't find it. I'd been so sure.”

“Thank you all the same,” said Chirrut shyly. He swiped at his eyes, hoping Baze would not comment on the action. “I – I should get dressed.”

Baze smiled at him again and patted his shoulder. “Good luck for your test, Brother Chirrut Imwe. See you around.”

“See you,” said Chirrut in a small voice as Baze strolled off. He brushed shaking fingers over where Baze had touched him, and felt warm all over in a way that had nothing to do with the water.

***

The test had not proceeded as well as Chirrut had hoped, but there were still two more trials to go before the masters would assess their suitability to move on to the next level. He felt off-balance without his charm; he kept touching the hollow of his throat, expecting warm metal, and encountering cool skin.

His friends were too busy discussing their tests to pay attention to Chirrut being distracted. He couldn't blame them. However, everyone paid attention when, at the noon meal, Baze Malbus detached himself from his usual group to come and speak with Chirrut at their table.

“How was the test, Chirrut?”

Chirrut's mind fizzled into static, like a bad holo. “Uh. Test.”

“Yes, the first test for the fifth duan.” The older acolyte raised an eyebrow.

“Oh. Um, I-I-I don't think I did too well. But there are two more. So. Maybe. I could, um. I'd.” Chirrut finally remembered to breathe. “I think I can do better on the next two.”

“That's good.” Baze smiled. It was a slow curving of his lips, and Chirrut _knew_ he was blushing. Fedan kicked his ankle under the table, distracting him long enough from indecent thoughts about Baze's mouth. Unaware of the sub-table exchange, Baze said, “Anyway, we were out on patrol this morning and I saw this. I know it's probably nothing as precious as your own, but perhaps this could give you a little bit of luck.” He handed a small package to Chirrut.

Still flushing, Chirrut took it with shaky fingers. With Baze's encouraging nod, the younger acolyte unwrapped the flimsy paper.

In it was a small starbird charm.

“Like I said, it's not your old one, but I hope you'd take it anyway.”

“Thank you,” said Chirrut in a small voice. A thick lump came into his throat. “I-I really appreciate this.”

“You're welcome. Good luck on your next two tests.” Baze nodded impartially at the entire group and strode off to rejoin his friends.

Fedan was the first to grab Chirrut's arm and shake him. “When did you become friends with _the_ Baze Malbus? Why is he giving presents to you?”

Chirrut pulled his arm from Fedan. “I bumped into him last night after I lost my starbird pendant. He was kind enough to help me look for it.”

On the opposite side, Groluk grunted, “And kind enough to buy that for you.”

Chirrut smiled. He could not help the tiny curl of gratified pleasure in his gut. Baze Malbus – _Baze kriffing Malbus_ – remembered him and even got him a gift.

Fedan sighed and shook his head, his scales rustling slightly. “You're going to stare at him even more, aren't you? He's not even that good-looking, by the ridiculous standards of humans. His ears are too big and his nose is too round. And judging from the way meat is packed on his bones, he'd grow up big and hefty, like a bantha.”

“I know he's not good-looking,” said Chirrut rebelliously. He put the starbird charm around his neck, and felt reassured immediately by the faint contact between metal and skin. “But in my eyes, he's a good man. And that's all that matters.”

He looked at where Baze was laughing at something Vardann said. The older acolyte had thrown his head back, his long hair gleaming in the light, and the cheerful, open expression made something wrench tight in Chirrut's chest.

Perhaps someday he could make Baze Malbus laugh like that too.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Chirrut freaks out and Baze is Cool.

Chirrut flopped onto his back after the second test concluded. “How long before we have to report for the sparring?”

Fedan stretched, his carapace clicking. “At the next gong. Why is sitting still so _hard?_ ”

“Fedan, for the last time, it's meditation.”

“If pupating is as dull as that, I'm not doing it.”

Chirrut lifted his head. “Pupating? You're still in your larval stage?”

“No, silly, this is my nymph stage,” said Fedan, his eyes glittering red and cyan. “Once I've pupated, I can shut off any inadvertent mind-reading. I cannot tell you how excited I am for that development. No, wait, I can: I am so kriffing excited that I won't have to inadvertently read your filthy thoughts about bedding Baze Malbus.”

On Chirrut's left, Dai Lodea said loudly, “The next person to talk about pupating or any bodily functions will get my foot in their ass.”

Chirrut grinned and stood, offering a hand to Dai. “Thank you.”

“You're also being threatened, Imwe.” Dai smiled at him. “Come on. We have to warm up before we spar.”

***

The arena was in the eastern corner of the temple. Already a small crowd was gathered there. Chirrut bounced on his heels, feeling an anticipatory tension across his bony shoulders shiver to his fingertips. This was the first time the acolytes would spar in order to progress to the next _duan_ , since younger acolytes were expected to focus on building a firm foundation in theory first.

Groluk rolled his shoulders. “On the whole, I prefer being in the audience to being in the arena.”

“We can do this,” said Chirrut. “We've been sparring with one another- _oh in Whills' name why are the seniors here too?!”_

Dai peered over Chirrut's head. “They always watch the tests.”

Inwardly cursing, Chirrut wiggled to the back of the group. His cheeks felt hot and all the anxiety he had shaken off earlier returned with a vengeance.

Fedan elbowed him. “Your mind is racing a parsec a minute. What's wrong?”

“Baze Malbus is here.” Chirrut had already seen Baze Malbus among the seniors, between Sister Vardann and Brother Ul, the three of them laughing quietly at a shared joke. “I-I-I can't go out there. I'll make a fool of myself. I can't go out there and make a fool of myself!”

Fedan made a tsking sound and gripped both of Chirrut's shoulders. “Imwe, I'm going to tell you something inspirational. Get ready to be inspired, alright?”

“Uh... depends.”

“Chirrut Imwe, you have been a fool since you came into the temple. Remember the time you were on kitchen duty and drank all the cooking liquor on a dare, and puked into our dinner stew? And the time you tried to break the handstand record in the dorm?”

“-I did break the record-”

“-there was no record! You made it up, and when Master Olovai came in, you refused to come down and he made you keep up the handstand until you fainted. Which you did, on top of Groluk. And the time you cartwheeled across the entire front court just to prove you could do it, except you crashed into the Abbot.”

“Fedan, if you have a point...” Chirrut raised his eyebrows.

His best friend sighed. “Point is, you have already embarrassed yourself in front of a lot of people. Making a fool of yourself in front of a few more? Not exactly the worst case scenario.”

Chirrut stared at Fedan and shook his head. “Why do I even have you as a friend?”

“The Force provides,” Fedan retorted. He straightened. “Oh, it's your turn. You're up against Sister Opalin.”

Breathing steadily again, Chirrut wound his way through his class and stepped into the arena. His heart was still racing and his tongue felt thick in his mouth. He bowed courteously to the Abbot, to Master Olovai who was the referee, and then to Opalin, before waiting for her to begin.

Opalin was a head taller and half as broad as skinny Chirrut. She gestured to the weapon rack. “Armed or unarmed, Brother Imwe?”

“Uh, armed. Please.”

“Choose your weapon, acolyte.”

Chirrut picked the quarterstaff and stepped back. Opalin looked as serene as the horizon as she took a quarterstaff too. Master Olovai raised a hand.

When the hand fell, Opalin charged. Chirrut blocked the first two blows, and then felt the third under his ribs and the fourth on his shoulder. There were scattered gasps when Chirrut landed a hit in her midsection.

A glance to the side told Chirrut that Baze was watching closely, his brow furrowed. However, Opalin took advantage of his distraction and swept his feet out from under him. He rolled and flipped to his feet, hot under his collar at having been caught so easily. Then came a flurry of thrusts and parries, clicking so fast that Chirrut had no time to look anywhere other than at Opalin.

When their quarterstaves were locked together, Opalin pressed close and hissed, “Focus, Imwe. What if you had to fight for your life?”

“Then _make_ it a fight for my life,” he whispered back, drunk on adrenaline. “You're going easy on me and you know it.”

“Alright then. Here we go.”

They sprang apart. The senior acolyte smiled, both proud and predatory. The hair on Chirrut's arms tingled. Everything outside of the arena fell away and he smiled widely. He loved sparring precisely because of this: the ecstasy of being fully present in his body, of movement flowing into movement, of attack and counterattack, of breath and pulse and life.

Opalin was a vicious fighter. She could anticipate Chirrut's every move, and she landed six hits in succession that winded the younger acolyte. Chirrut could have sworn one of his ribs were cracked. Opalin moved like a loth-cat. Her strikes were fast and targeted Chirrut's weakest points.

_Loth-cat. By the Force, I've got you now._

Suddenly, Chirrut threw his staff straight into the air. Opalin looked up and swung her quarterstaff to bat it away before it could hit her.

“Hah! You think – oh.” She paused and smiled. “Good one.”

“Thank you. Please let go of your weapon,” said Chirrut. His fingers jabbed lightly at the soft underside of Opalin's jaw, and his right elbow was angled at her sternum. Any false move would be deeply painful.

The senior acolyte let go of her quarterstaff. “I yield.”

Chirrut released her and bowed. “Thank you.”

Master Olovai stepped forward and picked up both staves. “Well done, Imwe. Thank you, Opalin. Return to your peers.”

Limping back to his class, Chirrut flashed a wide grin at his friends. “Nothing to it – ow!”

“Cracked rib?”

“Cracked rib. And possibly something wrong with my left ankle.”

Groluk made a face. “I'll take you to the medics while Dai is sparring.”

***

The announcement on who had made it to the fifth duan was posted that very evening. Chirrut ignored the medic's advice and hobbled down to the board.

“Yes!” someone cheered. “I made it!”

“What about me?” Chirrut asked, trying to peer over the heads of everyone else. Cursing his lack of height, Chirrut grabbed Groluk's arm. “Did I make it?”

Groluk shook his head. “Sorry Chirrut. You, P'Kuan and I didn't make the cut this time. But Master Olovai said we could try the next cycle, we fell just a little short. It's just thirty days away.”

Numbed with disappointment, Chirrut thanked Groluk and limped slowly back to the infirmary. A cracked rib, a slight sprain, and another thirty days of being a fourth _duan_ while his friends went on to the fifth, and he was again further than ever from Baze Malbus.

What was the point? Sometime in the next thirty days, Baze Malbus was probably going to take his guardian tests. And he would certainly pass. Jedha was dry, the Force provided, and Baze Malbus was the smartest and best acolyte in all the temple.

Chirrut was so busy grumbling under his breath that he didn't even see the two visitors in the infirmary.

“There he is,” said Dai, her large eyes twinkling. “Imwe. I loved your performance in the arena today.”

Fedan smiled at him. “Me too. I've not seen anyone best Sister Opalin.”

“Yeah. I bested her so well that I'm in the infirmary and she's not.” Chirrut sighed. He sat down on the bed, wincing slightly. “Congrats you two. You made it to the fifth.”

“Thanks. But – and you are going to want to take a deep breath first – I overheard _Baze Malbus_ arguing that you should have cleared.”

Chirrut gaped.

Dai nodded sagely. “It's true. I saw him talking very heatedly with Masters Olovai and Fenwoo. Seems like you've caught his attention.”

The news that _Baze Malbus_ had spoken up for him was far too unreal for Chirrut to take in. He blinked at both his classmates, trying to picture the senior acolyte debating with the masters on his behalf.

Winking at Fedan, Dai nudged Chirrut over and sat beside him. “You'll recover in a day or two. I think you should sign up for wall patrol after that.”

“Wall patrol?”

“Mm-hmm.” She smirked at him. “Brother Baze Malbus is on the next cycle of patrols.”

Chirrut's face fell. “Then it'll already be inundated with volunteers.”

“Which is why...” Fedan fished out a thin slip of paper. “We signed you up the second we heard about it.”

Chirrut could not believe what he was reading. He scanned the page again and yes, his name was on the roster. “You guys... I'd hug both of you if my ribs didn't hurt that much!”

Fedan's eyes glittered blue-violet-green. “I'm gonna miss you in fifth, Chirrut, so make sure you clear the tests the next cycle, alright?”

Dai rolled her eyes. “I'll keep Fedan in line till you show up. Rest well, brother.”

“Thank you. Truly.” Chirrut's grin was blinding. “I don't know how to repay you.”

“Buy drinks for our next outing.”

“You're on. Two rounds each, on me.”

***

It was a week after Chirrut had been released from the medics before he had to report for wall patrol. It was a simple task, really: guardians of the temple checked that the old walls of Jedha City were intact, but mainly to establish a visible presence. Wall patrol consists of two guardians, and sixteen senior acolytes from fourth to sixth _duan_. Along the way, they would offer prayers for the devout, light incense at specific altars, and accept alms, if given. It was a dull chore. Chirrut had never volunteered for it before.

Chirrut only had eyes for Baze. The older acolyte was dressed in the somber navy shirt with ribbed sleeves all acolytes wore on patrols, along with a black long-sleeved tunic and the tan belt of the sixth duan. There was a small blaster attached to his hip and that made Chirrut stare at the man's easy, firm stance, the way he planted himself just behind the guardians in charge. Baze looked like he could hold back a sandstorm by staring it down.

_I am not going to swoon over Baze Malbus. I am not going to swoon over - THOSE PANTS ARE TOO TIGHT FOR HIS THIGHS - no, I am NOT going to swoon over Baze Malbus._

To distract himself, Chirrut looked around the rest of the group. There were two other sixth duan acolytes, Vardann and Uro. The other students and acolytes from fourth and fifth were too busy swooning over Baze to notice him staring. Chirrut also recognized one of the guardians: Guardian Grysso, a stern, no-nonsense man from a village near where Chirrut had grown up. There was a hint of the familiar southern dialect in his drawl even now. The other was a guardian from the same species as Fedan, only her carapace seemed much thicker and more pitted. Her voice was sweet and low, and she said her name was Firal.

The two guardians split the group up. Chirrut was quick to join the group where Baze was, but he kept near the back of the crowd. 

“Baze, you're breaking their hearts not being in this group,” Vardann teased before the two groups parted. 

Uro laughed. "I'll keep him warm for you, Vardann."

"Oh, he's hot enough," Vardann joked. "Just ask any of the juniors."

While the younger acolytes giggled nervously, Baze rolled his eyes. “Var, you're an ass. See you later.”

Guardian Grysso paid no attention to the banter. Instead, he pointed out the route and where they had to be watchful.

“Today should be an easy day,” he said as they headed out of the city. “We'd check the east and south walls, then walk through the south gate and the slum – watch your pockets when we're there – and then through the marketplace. We will not stop to make purchases of any sort. All alms must be accepted with a chant of the first prayer.”

“Will we get many alms?” someone in front asked.

“Nah.” Grysso snorted derisively. “Used to be we had so much we could distribute to the needy. Now we give and don't get. We'll see. Malbus, Uro, you two in the rear. Let's go.”

Chirrut had never truly seen the city walls up close. They were walls, how interesting could they be? But as they walked, Guardian Grysso pointed out potential weak spots and shared interesting anecdotes about past conquests. Uro and Baze added commentary about the graffiti in low voices that Chirrut and the other two in the back had to fight not to laugh at.

Occasionally, there were little alcoves set into the wall where the guardian would place an offering from his pouch. Usually it was a fragment of food, but Chirrut also saw small seeds or flowers left in them. He wondered what the alcoves were dedicated to.

There were also a number of narrow doors set into the wall. “These doors don't open into the city,” Uro explained quietly. “Sometimes sandstorms spring up while people are still outside and they can't make it to proper shelter. They can squeeze into these rooms until the sandstorm passes. Once a month, we make sure the doors function and the air ventilators inside work.”

Only by walking the wall did Chirrut appreciate just how large Jedha City was. He had lived most of his life in the temple; the city was huge in a way that baffled the mind. On the other side was the grand, bleak plains of the moon, with other mesas that were inhabited by far smaller populations.

“It's prettiest here when the sun sets,” Baze said after they turned the corner. “Right there. Most days there would be a mirage of Jedha City just as the sun goes down. I used to think there was a real city there, looking back at us.”

Chirrut glanced over his shoulder, just in time to see Baze's expression of gentle wonder. He screwed up his courage and asked quickly, “Have you... have you ever thought of traveling there, just to see for yourself?”

“No. Jedha is my home. I wouldn't leave it for a million credits.” He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Two million credits, now... I might venture away for two million.”

“I doubt anything can pry me from Jedha,” Chirrut said. "I don't like traveling."

Grysso paused to make another offering before they entered the gates, and before they could move off, the guardian was swarmed with devotees. The acolytes stood aside, watching and waiting. Chirrut found himself standing next to Baze, and his entire body felt warm.

Baze peered at him. “I'm sorry you didn't make the fifth, Chirrut. I thought you deserved to clear, especially with your performance in the arena against Opalin.”

“Well, I can try again in another twenty days.” Then Chirrut admitted quietly, “I thought wall patrol would be dull. But I'm learning new things about this city I didn't know before. I'd rather have this.”

The older acolyte smiled at him and made Chirrut's heart skip. “The Force sends you where you need to go.”

“That's, uh. That's right,” Chirrut stammered and dug his fingers into his palms. He stared at his dusty shoes, trying to form a proper sentence. “I-I was thinking if you could. Um. If I could, I mean, I understand if you're busy...”

“What do you need?” Baze said.

Chirrut squeezed his eyes shut. “Ifyoucouldsparwithmejustonce.”

When he heard no response, Chirrut opened his eyes. Baze was on one knee, talking to a young child whose cheeks were streaked with tears, and murmuring assurances.

Of course, Baze had been talking to the kid. Chirrut mentally kicked himself. Then he noticed that another skinny child sneaked up behind Baze, filched his pocket, and sped off.

“Hey! Come back!” Chirrut shouted. He gave chase, winding through the crowd, but it wasn't long before he lost sight of the boy in an alley with a dead end. Panting hard, he paused, trying to figure out where the kid had escaped from. Then he heard someone clearing their throat and he turned around.

Three burly men and a woman blocked the exit.

“You're a pretty one,” said the tallest. He sported tusks as long as Chirrut's hand. “You'll fetch a good price.”

Winded from the chase, Chirrut backed away slowly. He had no weapon on him. The four of them had blasters and blades. There was little chance of Chirrut getting away unscathed.

 _But little chance does not mean no chance._ He licked his dry lips. “Sorry. Already sold to the temple.”

The gray-haired woman jerked her jaw. “Grab him. No blasters. We need parts, not prostitutes.”

_Okay, Force, please provide me with an escape now?_

The first man reached him and went down in a flurry when Chirrut threw him over his thin shoulder. Then, grabbing the man's knife, he defended himself against the second and third. He spun on his heel to keep them in sight when they tried to circle behind him. Suddenly, he felt a blaster shot whiz by his head.

“Hey, I thought you said no blasters!” he yelled at the woman in charge before he whirled around to face her.

Instead, Chirrut saw Baze Malbus with his blaster aimed at the woman who was now prone on the ground. One of the men fighting Chirrut flung a throwing knife at Baze, who shot it out of the air without a pause.

The barest hint of a smile curled his lips. “Sorry. I must have missed that notice.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

It was unfair, thought Chirrut, that Baze Malbus was a sharpshooter on top of being attractive and strong and intelligent. But all that offended affection would have to wait until after he had extricated himself from the conundrum he'd found himself in.

First things first.

With a sidestep, a deft grip and a twist, he broke the wrist of the man who had dared to throw a knife at Baze, and then roundhouse kicked the second, taller man in his solar plexus. The third man charged at him with a wild yell. Another blaster shot whizzed over his left shoulder and hit his would-be assailant neatly in the chest. It sent him sprawling, but that man had been wearing armor.

“Now you're in for it,” the third man growled, the scar over his brow twisting with his grimace. He drew two blasters from his belt. “Kryzak, call up the troops!”

The second man bared his yellowed teeth as he got up and tapped a code on the communit on his belt. He had a blaster too. “Both of you will fetch a pretty price.”

“Imwe, get over here!” Baze ordered, his voice rough.

Chirrut stomped on the scarred man's foot before dashing to Baze, who then grabbed his hand. Before Chirrut could recover from the shock of contact, the older initiate started running, pulling Chirrut along with him. The men gave chase.

They weaved through a series of alleys. Baze seemed to know exactly where he was going, and since Chirrut's mind was still stuck on the fact that _Baze kriffing Malbus_ was holding his hand, the younger man just followed. They could hear yelling behind them. Abruptly, Baze dragged Chirrut up a flight of stairs and shoved him into a deep-set doorway. The older initiate then slid open a panel on the door.

“Keep an eye out for them,” Baze said. Then he keyed in a code, but the lock did not deactivate. “Damn. What is the key code?”

The three men who were chasing them had entered the alley. Chirrut nudged Baze and murmured, “They're here. The one with the broken wrist didn't follow.”

“Squeeze in.” Baze shifted so Chirrut could be tucked between him and the wall. He muttered a few numbers under his breath, a crease between his eyebrows. Then he smiled. “Got it.”

 _This is unfair_ , Chirrut thought when he saw Baze's smile not three inches from his face. He would never be able to sleep without seeing that smile.

Baze pushed the door open just enough for Chirrut to go in, and then he slipped in as well.

The room was not large and was sparsely furnished with a table and two benches. On the other side of the room was a counter where a tap and a sink, along with a dust-covered stove, sat. The windows were boarded up.

Chirrut peered around, befuddled. Jedha was crowded. He wasn't sure what the going rate was, but such a room would cost a fair number of credits to rent, and the Temple didn't spend money like that.

While the younger man studied the room, Baze remained by the door, peering out of a narrow gap. The shouts disappeared after another couple of minutes. Then he shut the door with a click.

“I've told Guardian Grysso earlier that I'd look for you, so we'll leave once I'm sure the traffickers are gone,” said Baze. He frowned forbiddingly at Chirrut. “What happened? Why did you just tear off by yourself?”

Chirrut blinked. He had nearly forgotten why he had been attacked in the first place. “I... I saw a kid pinching your pockets. I gave chase, but I lost the boy in the crowd, and then the four of them trapped me.”

“You went haring after a child? In this part of the city? Brother Chirrut, that was reckless of you. You should've thought of possible scenarios before you acted. Kids here belong to gangs that even Guardians cannot rout.”

If the censure was sterner, Chirrut would have borne it with more grace, but Baze's chiding was gentle in its dismay. He gulped and folded his arms around his abdomen as he sat on one of the dusty benches. “I didn't think about that. I just – I didn't want you to lose anything to a pickpocket.”

Baze sighed and sat beside him. “Everything I have was donated to the temple. They're not mine in the first place.”

Chirrut said nothing. He bit the inside of his cheek, hating that he felt small and stupid for trying to do something right.

Baze continued, “You have a good heart, brother. Thank you for looking out for me. And you were holding your own earlier, too. If you were armed, I'd have been tempted to let you wreck them. And now you have faces to report to the Guardians.”

“Report?”

“They're traffickers, from what I heard. We'll make a report when we get back. Guardian Grysso will want to follow up on it.”

Baze was about to get up when Chirrut asked, “What is this place, anyway?”

The older man shrugged with one shoulder. “I was running with a gang on the streets when I was little. After Guardian Kuru saved me, he put me up in here while he took down the gang leaders. It's the guardian's home. After he was posted to the eastern branch, he told me to keep it secure.”

“Hence the boarded windows and the keypad?”

“Only when it's not lived in. Last orbit, it was rented out to some Twi'leks. I forgot I'd changed the code after they left.” Baze chuckled self-deprecatingly. “Never had a brain for codes.”

“I never thought... I always had the impression you grew up in the temple,” said Chirrut. He had been around seven when he joined the Temple of the Whills, and even then he had been aware of the devout Baze Malbus. Everyone had.

Baze shrugged again. “I was small and could squeeze into tight spaces. Very useful for thieving.” Then he grinned. “Not that you can tell from my size now. Big and brawny from temple food.”

“I like you big,” Chirrut said, and then blushed when he realized what he had just blurted out. Then his face fell. “Will Guardian Grysso be angry at me?”

“Not when you have inadvertently discovered a group of traffickers.” Baze slapped Chirrut on the shoulder before he stood up. “It'll be fine. Come on, the coast should be clear.”

***

It was very nearly fine.

Chirrut was scolded for an hour, but after he'd given his account of the scuffle and the description of the one called Kryzak, Master Grysso relented and reduced his punishment. Two nights' sentry duty was light, barely a rap on the knuckles, considering that he could have got Baze killed.

After dinner and evening meditation, Chirrut climbed up the many steps to the sentry tower and took his position. Every guardian in training had done sentry duty, of course, from the time they were in the second _duan_ , but night watches were dull and chilly. Certain parts of the city would be ablaze in light and sound, but near the holy temple, most residents turned in early. It was a good time to stargaze, if the bulk of the planet was not overhead; it was overhead now, a dark mass with a thin orange-pink sliver on the far eastern side of the sky.

With the quiet, Chirrut could hear a lot more than he could in the day. In the distance, beyond the southern part of the city, ships laden with ore or people hummed as they took off and landed. A lone reveler, returning home, sang an off-color song a couple of streets away. Chirrut smiled to himself as he caught the tail end of the scandalous melody. It was peaceful, and he could now savor the memory of Baze Malbus kicking ass.

The older youth had moved so fast, despite his size, and his utter confidence in his skill was beguiling. He was a hymn and a warsong, blended. Chirrut let his mind wander to the moment they were in Baze's hideaway. If he'd been bold enough to tell Baze how he felt... if Baze, for some mad reason, had led them there so he could have his way with Chirrut... if Baze had pinned the younger man against the wall and kissed him, pressed his bulk against Chirrut to hold him still...

Baze's mouth had looked soft and warm. Was he the type to smile when he kissed? Would he keep his eyes open? Chirrut had kissed a few in his fifteen years.

“You know he has a crush on you, right?”

“Nonsense. He's friendly to everyone.”

The voices broke into Chirrut's fantasies. The acolyte blinked rapidly and adjusted his clothing, shifting so he could peer into the courtyard where the voices came from. The second person who'd spoken was Baze; the first was Sister Vardann.

She was smiling at Baze now. “He's friendly to everyone, but the way he looks at you? I think he thinks you hung the stars.”

Baze shook his head, chuckling. “You always tell me so-and-so has a crush on me. Are you trying to validate me, or to tell me that you want to show off to them?”

“Nah,” said Vardann. “I know I have you. They can all look, but only I get to touch.” She kissed Baze on the lips, in the middle of the courtyard, uncaring that anyone walking past would have seen them.

She wouldn't have known that Chirrut was watching. She would not have cared.

Staring from his perch, Chirrut gripped the edge of the parapet, hardly daring to breathe. He had not known. He had not known.

Suddenly his knees and legs felt numb. He backed away and returned to the other side of the sentry tower.

Of course it had all been a fantasy. He had known it to be a far-fetched dream. Even from the very beginning when he had noticed Baze Malbus, he had felt too keenly the chasm between what he, Chirrut Imwe, was, and what Baze Malbus was. It was innocent fun at first, trying to catch up to the golden boy of the temple. Then admiration turned to something more intimate, more real, and then Chirrut had stupidly allowed their few interactions to magnify their acquaintance into something it was not.

Why would Baze Malbus even care that Chirrut liked him? Sister Vardann was beautiful, with her bright eyes and quick mind. Her ferocious grace in the sparring ring was a joy to behold; she would be excellent paired with Baze, whose style tended to be solid and defensive.

Of course Vardann and Baze were together. It made sense. It made all sorts of sense.

Chirrut wiped angrily at his damp cheeks with the back of his right hand. He was only a fourth _duan_. He should be satisfied that Baze Malbus knew him, that they were friendly. It was already more than anything Chirrut had ever dreamed of. Chirrut knew he should be grateful. The Force had set the senior acolyte in his life, given him a goal to work towards.

But cold logic was no balm for a wounded heart.

***

The next day, Chirrut was careful to be in the front of the patrol, close to Guardian Grysso. He had nodded his greeting to all the senior acolytes, but he made sure to avoid Baze's eyes. He saw a flicker of concern pass over Vardann's face, but he didn't linger in the back this time. The guardian took it as a sign of penitence and said little about Chirrut's reticence. They walked the walls, placed offerings, shared prayers with those who asked. Guardian Grysso, Baze and Vardann disappeared after the wall patrol returned to the temple. They came back before dinner, looking proud of themselves.

Fedan told Chirrut before sentry duty that the temple had brought in a group of organ smugglers to the city elders. “They had been sending children away to be reared on a distant moon, like food animals, until their organs are needed.”

“Vile space scum” had been Groluk's verdict, and the rest of the acolytes concurred. Chirrut should feel pleased that he had been instrumental in providing a name. He felt numb. He had felt numb all day.

Later that night, Chirrut ascended the stairs and stood staring into nothingness, deliberately thinking of nothing other than the here-and-now, until his watch was over. He wondered if he could volunteer for night sentry duty until he got over his silly, ridiculous feelings, until he could fall asleep without wanting to cry all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this latest chapter is so short. Life is in the way at the moment.


	4. Chapter 4

In the morning, Chirrut asked for – and received – a dispensation from the afternoon meditation sessions after wall patrol duty. Again, he stayed close to Guardian Grysso, and spoke very little to the seniors. He caught Baze and Vardann sharing a private joke, and he felt sick.

Instead of giving in to his desire to curl in his cot and mope, however, he decided to use his time to revise for the test for the fifth duan.

 _I'm doing this for myself and the temple,_ he told himself.

The librarian, a slightly forgetful rotund little guardian with a perpetual smile, raised her eyebrows when she saw the stack of books in front of Chirrut. “You can use the new datapads, you know. They're low glare.”

“My eyes get tired after a while when I use one,” Chirrut replied.

“Hmm. You should get them checked, then.”

Chirrut smiled at her motherly concern. “I promise I will.”

He immersed himself in the texts. There was nothing he hadn't read before, but he saw nuances he had missed the first time round, and came up with some new analyses as well.

“...the chronicles are irrelevant.”

“We can always learn from history.”

A dull, sick ache sprang into Chirrut's middle. Baze and Vardann. He hunkered down, hoping that _The Plura Codex_ would hide him. The memory of the two senior acolytes kissing still stung. However, he still couldn't keep himself from peeking over the top of the codex to observe Baze Malbus.

Baze had a datapad in his hand, while he gesticulated calmly with the other. His voice was low but, given the silence of the library, his words carried well enough. Vardann shook her head and murmured something in reply.

Chirrut lowered his gaze. Their conversation was not his business. Neither of them was. He had to focus on passing the tests again for the fifth duan. He was re-reading his notes again when he felt someone coming over to him. Glancing up, he nearly dropped all his stationery.

“B-Baze. Brother Baze.” Chirrut cleared his throat. “Hi.”

Baze smiled and took a seat opposite. “Hey. I remembered this morning that you asked me to spar with you.”

“I-I-I did?” the younger acolyte asked, while thinking in panic, _He heard me? He made sense of what I said? What else did I say? Have I said anything else really dumb?_

“Yes. The day we were nearly abducted and sold for organ trafficking,” said Baze, apparently not noticing Chirrut's momentary fluster. “I do have a number of duties, but Master Firal agreed to give me the evening after next off. If you still want to spar, let me know.” He grinned. “I think you gave Sister Opalin a good fight, so I won't hold back when it's you and me. Of course, if you need help with the other tests, feel free to pick my brain.”

Chirrut gulped and returned a weak smile. “Of course.”

***

“You've been unlike yourself,” said Groluk, in her straightforward manner when she saw Chirrut alone in the dormitory, one sock dangling from his left hand.

“What? No. And you're off your cycle.” Chirrut glanced up. When they first met, he was unused to Groluk switching genders every few weeks, but now he had got used to it, and found it unsettling when Groluk's cycle altered.

Ignoring Chirrut's remark, Groluk perched on the side of the table. “Ever since the night sentry duties, you've been withdrawn. What's bothering you? The retest?”

Chirrut shrugged. “I don't know what I did wrong the last time. How do I know how to improve?” He didn't mention Baze Malbus' offer.

“Ask a senior.” Groluk shrugged. “I did. Brother Uro looked through what I wrote and also sparred with me. Turns out I quoted the wrong sutra for that question on blessing unions. And a few others.”

“That would be the, uh, first chapter, third verse of the Book of Arcono?”

“You got it,” she answered, her rare smile gentle. She flicked him on the brow and added, “It's really not like you to be this down about anything.”

Leaning back in his seat, Chirrut sighed. He knew he was out of sorts, and he had about two weeks to get his mind back on track. It was difficult to not feel bewildered and hurt by what he'd seen, but what had it to do with him in the first place? A month ago, he hadn't even spoken to Baze Malbus. He sighed again, this one of determination, and made himself smile at Groluk in thanks.

***

Force preserve him, but Chirrut really did not want to have to interact with Baze Malbus until he had figured out how to stop his infantile crush on the older acolyte. Chirrut knew his feelings would not be reciprocated. He hadn't expected them to be returned in the first place.

But the memory of Baze and Vardann kissing in the open still gnawed at him. Nothing helped him clear his mind. His meditation circled endlessly around his conundrum, he barely heard what was said in the morning lesson, and when he reported for wall duty, he stuck close to the the other fourth duan acolytes so as not to talk to the others.

What Chirrut needed was a sign. Should he ask Baze for help or not?

Now that the team knew what to do on wall duty, Guardian Grysso and Firal assigned acolytes the responsibility of placing offerings in the wall's many alcove altars while Uro, Baze and Vardann checked on the ventilation systems in the outer wall shelters. All of them were to gather at the north gate in an hour.

Chirrut was working with a fifth duan acolyte named Li Oraa. He was a head shorter than Chirrut and dour in his responses, but he wasn't unfriendly. He cleared out the altars, and Chirrut would put in a new offering. Then they would both utter the same prayer from the Phura Codex. Chirrut wondered if he could ask Oraa to go over his work, but decided against it – he knew nothing about Oraa and it was weird to ask the older acolyte for such a favor.

As Chirrut placed a small _mair_ bun in one of the alcoves, the city's warning bells sounded. Then they heard the echoing bells from the temple adding on to the din.

_Sandstorm._

The reverberations echoed in his skull. Chirrut and Oraa ran along the wall, one hand on the sand-smoothed surface. A few times a rotation, massive sandstorms lasting over forty hours swept through the old city, scouring the buildings of paint. Travelers caught outside had little chance of survival, unless they could burrow deep into the sands and hold their breaths.

Chirrut had never been caught outside the city before in a sandstorm.

“Go on,” Oraa bellowed when Chirrut realized he was outpacing the other acolyte. “Get to a shelter now!”

Chirrut didn't waste his breath yelling back. Already he could see the massive orange-red wall of wind and sand particles coming towards the city. He grabbed Oraa's forearm and pulled him along.

Not far in front of them, Guardian Firal was ushering the other acolytes through doors. The wind was howling, wild and free. Goosebumps broke out over Chirrut's arms when he glimpsed the changed skies.

“One of you in here, the other goes into the next!” she said when Chirrut and Oraa were in range.

Chirrut shoved Oraa into the open room and dashed towards the next one. When he saw who was holding the door, he wished he had swapped places with Oraa.

“Get in, Imwe.” Sister Vardann pushed him into the shelter and swung the door shut.

Chirrut's heart sank. _Why her?_

Then another idea sprang up. _Why not? If you don't want to ask Baze to help, then ask her. She has no reason to say no, since you are stuck here together for the next forty hours._

“Sister Vardann?”

She paused in the midst of checking that the pipes worked. “Yes?”

“I wonder if... I'm taking the fifth duan tests again soon, but I don't know where I went wrong the first time round.” He smiled at her. “If you don't mind, could you help me while we wait out the storm?”

Vardann smiled back. “Sure. Baze said you're a smart one, so let's see why you've been kept back this round.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

If Vardann had been mean or rude, Chirrut would have found it easier to resent her. As it was, she was warmly encouraging while pointing out where Chirrut could have done better in his tests. She was so nice that Chirrut felt guilty for the nasty words he had thought about her after discovering her and Baze's relationship.

“Your fight with Sister Opalin was practically flawless,” she said quietly, at the end of their tutoring session. “The only quibble I had was your lack of focus from the start. If you could maintain the same intensity throughout, I'm sure the masters would clear you.”

Most of the other acolytes were dozing off at the back of the shelter, while some leaned listlessly against the walls, bored out of their minds. One or two had been interested in the lesson that Vardann was imparting, but soon drifted away.

Chirrut hugged his knees. “I was nervous.”

“Doesn't mean you can't be focused.”

Acknowledging the point, Chirrut asked for a few more pointers. Vardann had Chirrut practice hand-to-hand with her, limiting their moves to close-quarter combat since it was crowded in the shelter. The senior acolyte was fast, her strikes precise and from unexpected angles. Chirrut was able to deflect most, but suffered a few glancing blows to his ribs, a tap on his jaw, and – he couldn't figure out how she did it, given the cramped conditions – a playful slap to the back of his head.

Vardann nodded in approval after a final strike that landed squarely on Chirrut's diaphragm, knocking the breath from his body. “You _are_ good.”

“Good?” the younger acolyte wheezed. He gasped a few times. “I hope – I hope you're not my next opponent.”

“No, I'm too similar in my style to Opalin. They'd find someone different.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Tell you what. Next evening, after prayers, go to the training ground behind the third prayer hall. I'll make sure you pass this time.”

Chirrut blinked in confusion. “Wh-what?”

“You're keen to improve, and you're not the frivolous fool I thought you were, for all the clowning around you did before.” Off Chirrut's embarrassed expression, she grinned and added, “I did like that thing you did to Master Gur that one time.”

The young man cringed. “That was an accident.”

“A _great_ accident.” She winked at him and then found a corner to sit and meditate.

Chirrut wished he could detest her, but he couldn't. She was genuine and pleasant, and she would be a great guardian.The young man knew he had to let go of his silly little crush on Baze Malbus. Nothing would ever come of it, not when Baze had Vardann.

***

Everyone was given a day to recover from the sandstorm, which actually translated to the acolytes sweeping mounds and mounds of sand from the temple grounds. It kept Chirrut busy enough that he did not have time to think about Vardann's injunction until he was walking out of the prayer hall that he remembered. Brushing the sand off his knees, he nearly tripped as he entered the training ground, and when he got his bearings, he was stunned.

Vardann waved at Chirrut. “Come on, Imwe, I have the perfect person to train you.”

Chirrut froze.

Baze Malbus turned around from the weapon rack. “Hey, Chirrut.”

“Um, hello.” Chirrut gulped down his shock. “I-I-I wasn't expecting you.”

The stocky acolyte elbowed Vardann. “She said you asked her for pointers for the combat segment of the tests, and since you also asked me for a sparring session, she volunteered me for this.”

“Oh.” The junior acolyte glanced at Vardann, who was grinning smugly. “Uh, thank you. Both. For... for this. Y-you didn't have to, um. I mean, I'm just your junior and this is really a great privilege.”

Vardann shook Chirrut's shoulder. “Hey. You're welcome.” Then she leaned closer and whispered, “Look, I know you're intimidated. Don't give in to fear. He's better than most, but he's not invincible. But if you can beat him, you can defeat anyone at the tests.”

Still somewhat shaken, Chirrut ducked his head away from Vardann's smiling face. “I'll try.”

“Don't try. Do.” She jerked her thumb at the weapons rack. “Quarterstaff?”

“Quarterstaff.”

Baze plucked one from the rack and tossed it at Chirrut, who snatched it out of midair instinctively.

“Acolytes, bow. Now, on the count of three...” As Vardann stepped away, her keen gaze assessing both of them, Chirrut considered how to approach Baze. He had seen the older acolyte in sparring matches, of course. Baze was a mountain, unyielding and stolid, yet surprisingly agile. Chirrut also knew that Baze had an unerring aim.

“One.”

The other young man was waiting in a ready stance, quarterstaff angled across his body. Chirrut noted the steadiness of Baze's breathing.

“Two.”

Chirrut held the staff vertically and drew the top closer to himself. He was outmatched in mass, but he had the advantage of speed. Furthermore, other than that one fight with Sister Opalin and the scuffle in the city, Baze had not seen Chirrut fight seriously. And Chirrut was a master of improvisation.

“Three.”

The two young men stepped forward and their staves clashed. As expected, Chirrut stumbled back, but turned on his heel and slammed his weapon diagonally down where Baze stood. It nearly connected with the senior acolyte's shoulder, except Baze angled his torso and the staff skated just a fingerwidth from his chest to the sandy ground.

Baze smiled approvingly. “Good start. But now-” He twisted and slapped the small of Chirrut's back, “-you left yourself undefended.”

“Oh, did I?” Chirrut flashed a cheeky grin, before hooking his staff under Baze's right heel and tripping him. He then followed up with another downward strike, but Baze rolled out of the way, his quarterstaff blocking the blow and then sweeping Chirrut's feet out from under him.

Both of them sprang upright at the same time. The older acolyte was smiling broadly, which made Chirrut's stomach do a strange, happy flip. He grinned, caught up in the sheer joy of the fight, and followed up with a flurry of thrusts and cross strikes. Baze was too strong to be knocked down by Chirrut's attack, and each time he parried, he would force the younger man back a few paces.

_If I can't overpower you, I'd have to wear you down._

As though a born Guardian, Baze fought like he was protecting everything precious to him: he never pressed an advantage and kept to a tight area, and his defence was near-impenetrable. Chirrut danced in and out of range, his agility and speed allowing him to be the ternfly badgering the senior acolyte. He kept circling Baze, testing new angles and prodding for weak spots. Initially, Baze was able to keep up, but Chirrut soon noticed that Baze was beginning to slow whenever he whirled about to defend himself.

The younger acolyte jabbed the staff at Baze, who parried with a down strike, sending the end of Chirrut's quarterstaff to the ground again. The junior acolyte jammed the weapon hard into the ground and used the momentum to propel himself up and over Baze, intending to kick the older acolyte on his descent.

Chirrut did not expect Baze to grab him by the left ankle and throw him to the ground. Before Chirrut could jump to his feet, Baze pounced. They grappled as they rolled over and over, neither gaining a clear advantage until the senior acolyte finally grabbed hold of both of Chirrut's wrists and sat on Chirrut's legs. A quick shift and Baze had the younger acolyte's wrists in the grip of his left hand and his right was wrapped firmly around Chirrut's throat. Although he didn't exert further pressure, it was clear who was the victor.

But Chirrut was not paying attention to any of that.

This close, Baze was even more entrancing than Chirrut had ever imagined. His hair had fallen free of its knot, falling in soft waves about his face. The exercise had brought up beads perspiration trickling over his skin, narrow streams flowing from his temples and brow down the planes of his flushed face. His lips were parted, his breathing heavy, and there was a proud glimmer in those gentle eyes. His weight – a deliciously solid, warm weight – made Chirrut's stomach flip strangely again.

Baze smiled slightly. “Do you yield?”

The younger acolyte gulped, his tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. “Y-yes.”

An odd expression flitted over Baze's face, but it was gone before Chirrut could analyze it. Climbing to his feet, Baze helped Chirrut up, but the latter overcompensated for the assist and collided with Baze's broad chest. Chirrut's cheeks, already warm, could not blush deeper, for which he was immensely thankful.

Vardann strode over with their quarterstaves. “Hm. Thanks, Baze. I'll continue my coaching. Imwe, stand up straight. Let's go over what you did wrong.”

“You're welcome. Let me know when you need me as a teaching assistant, Var.” Baze clapped Chirrut on the shoulder. “Good fight. You almost had me.”

Even as Vardann outlined and demonstrated what Chirrut should have done, the junior acolyte could not help glancing at Baze walking away. When Baze turned to look, Chirrut wondered if Baze was looking at him or at Sister Vardann.

Whomever it was that Baze looked at, at least Chirrut would always have the memory of Baze Malbus pinning him down. Chirrut licked his lips again. It would be very difficult to let his feelings go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the long wait - I was away on holiday for nearly all of December and am finally back home. Hope all of you had a good break and let's pray 2018 doesn't suck!


	6. Chapter 6

Unlike in the previous round of tests, Chirrut was much more assured and confident in his answers the second time around. When he compared his responses with Groluk and P'Kuan, the three of them knew they were on the right track.

“You did well in sparring last round,” said P'Kuan. “I suppose you're definitely going to be promoted to the fifth duan.”

Chirrut shrugged. “Depends on my performance later, really.”

“We've all asked the seniors for help,” Groluk said. “I know we can do this.”

P'Kuan looked unconvinced and rather nervous. Chirrut offered him a candied _ko_ fruit peel, one of the few sweets he allowed himself to hoard. “You'll do fine, P'Kuan. Like Groluk said, we have all been training since the last time with the seniors. We're better than we were.”

They were waiting just outside the smallest training room to be called inside. Unlike the previous round of tests where all the fourth duan acolytes had to take the tests and others could watch, only the three of them were involved, and they would go in one by one to face their opponents.

Groluk went in first. Chirrut and P'Kuan listened at the door, until a senior acolyte who Chirrut didn't recognize came over and shooed them further away. It was a different kind of pressure, waiting like this. Chirrut sucked on the candied peel and went over the advice Vardann had given him over the past few lessons, sparring with different seniors who tended to be heavyset or much stronger. He wondered who his opponent would be.

P'kuan was the next. Groluk hadn't come out, so Chirrut assumed his friend was inside watching. He supposed this way the ones who had been tested couldn't tell those waiting who their opponent was. It did make Chirrut slightly uneasy. What if Vardann's predictions were wrong and the masters selected someone quick instead of sturdy?

“Imwe, you're up,” said the same senior acolyte, poking his head out to call for Chirrut. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” said Chirrut, and stopped short after taking two steps into the training room. Vardann was there, sitting in a corner, and so was another senior – a Reya, if Chirrut remembered correctly – and Baze Malbus, standing in the center of the room on the sparring platform.

_Seriously? Baze kriffing Malbus?_

The two times Vardann had Chirrut spar with Baze, the latter had won definitively. Chirrut gulped. He was going to fail this time, wasn't he? He set down his small pouch of sweets and peeled off his sandals, trying to calm his racing mind. Vardann trained him for this. She made him fight Baze Malbus their very first training session, and she had pointed out all the areas where he was lacking. Chirrut might not beat Baze, but he was going to do alright.

He _had_ to do alright.

The senior acolyte prodded Chirrut in the back. “Well go on, do your courtesies.”

P'Kuan and Groluk were on the far side of the room, both grinning at him and pumping their fists to cheer him on. Chirrut smiled weakly at them both as he stepped onto the raised sparring platform made of packed earth. The soles of his feet would be dusted red by the end of the match. The platform was about eight paces in diameter; this would be close-quarter combat.

“Master Reeves, Master Olovai.” He bowed to the stern masters, the latter of whom was acting as referee again, and then to his opponent. “Brother Malbus.”

“Brother Imwe,” said Baze, a small, encouraging smile hovering about his lips.

“Armed or unarmed, acolyte?” Master Olovai barked.

Chirrut licked his lips and took a deep breath. He knew he wouldn't win in a fight with weapons. “Unarmed.”

Baze narrowed his eyes slightly, as if amused.

Master Olovai raised his hand. “Bow.” They bowed. He let his hand fall. “Begin.”

Despite the nerves fluttering in his chest, Chirrut's motions were deliberate as he slid into the ready stance. Baze came at him fast, _shockingly_ fast, like a charging bantha, and Chirrut did the first thing that popped into his head. He sidestepped and tripped the older acolyte.

Baze fell and rolled up, fists swinging. Chirrut ducked and weaved, avoiding the blows as best as he could. To the untrained eye, it was as if Baze was flailing about with no aim or purpose, but everyone in the training room knew that the older acolyte had made himself a storm that only a skilled pugilist could weather.

“Tall trees break in the strongest gales,” one of the masters in Chirrut's second year had told them. “Be a reed bowing in the wind.” Of course he had to then show them holos of trees and reeds, because some of the acolytes had lived their entire lives never encountering a plant taller than weeds.

Chirrut kept this in mind, spinning with the impact when hit rather than trying to counteract with force. There was no way he would come out on top if he tried to fight Baze directly. All he had to do was hold on and wait for the opportune moment.

Baze's left fist flew close to Chirrut's cheek and clipped his left ear. The older acolyte swung his arm horizontally, knocking the younger acolyte into a sideways stagger. Chirrut nearly fell and had to shake his head clear, his left ear still ringing from the impact. Then he saw that Baze was breathing hard and his movements had slowed.

_Here we go, Imwe. Don't mess up now._

Instead of straightening, he dropped into a stance closer to the ground, keeping his center of gravity low, and attacked Baze's legs and knees. That forced Baze into retreating until he nearly fell off the raised platform.

Instinctively Chirrut jumped up and tugged Baze back into the sparring circle. Their torsos bumped together, and Chirrut caught a glimpse of Baze's confusion, before the latter tossed him over his hip.

Somewhat winded, Chirrut threw up his legs, locked his ankles about Baze's neck and yanked him down. He then leaped on top of Baze, showering the larger acolyte's head with a flurry of punches, all of which Baze blocked with his forearms. Just as Chirrut drew his arm back for a stronger blow, Baze Malbus grabbed Chirrut's left wrist and jerked it aside.

Chirrut reached out with his other hand to brace himself, but that wrist was caught too. The two acolytes were face to face, both breathing hard, and Baze was grinning almost wildly. It was an expression Chirrut had never seen on Baze's face.

The younger acolyte's heart skipped into his throat. The desire to lean down and just kiss that crazy, proud, wide smile off Baze's face blossomed like wildfire through his veins.

Perhaps the thought was too evident in Chirrut's eyes. Baze's grin suddenly disappeared and a bright red blush painted his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Chirrut could _hear_ Baze's breath catch in his throat.

Abruptly panicking, Chirrut headbutted Baze. The unexpected attack startled Baze into letting go and Chirrut hastily grabbed hold of Baze's thick throat, drawing his right hand back in a jab. He could feel Baze's pulse under his fingertips and his heart raced in response.

“Yield?”

Baze licked his lips. Pretending he didn't notice it, Chirrut asked the question again.

“I yield,” Baze said. He swallowed.

Chirrut could feel the movement of sweaty skin under his palm and he visibly shuddered. Trying to play it off as a come-down from the adrenaline, he got off the older acolyte and sat on the platform, face buried in his earth-reddened hands.

Cheers erupted from the acolytes. Chirrut didn't know who it was that dragged him to his feet, but he did realize Master Olovai was talking to them and paid attention.

“All three of you have demonstrated resilience, resourcefulness, and perseverance over the past thirty days, and have all shown considerable improvement in your performance. I am therefore promoting you three to fifth duan.” The stern master was actually smiling. Chirrut and Groluk exchanged a look of doubt. “Celebrate with what is left of today, and tomorrow at the second gong you will report to me at the library to catch up on what the other fifth duan acolytes have done since the last tests. You will have extra studies in order not to fall behind. If you are late tomorrow, I will demote you once more to fourth duan.”

Now _that_ was the Master Olovai Chirrut knew and respected. Once the masters left, he skipped off the platform to thank Vardann, but she and Baze had disappeared. His heart sank.

 _Of course they're gone,_ he told himself. _They have better things to do. You're just a junior who took up their time. I can always thank Vardann another time, with a proper present._

“Come on Chir, Fedan will want to know how we did,” Groluk said happily, dragging her friend out of the room. “Race you to the kitchen! I bet they have extra sticky cakes. Last one there washes up!”

“Don't eat them all, you greedy nexu!” Chirrut retorted, but Groluk and P'Kuan were already pelting towards the kitchens. Chirrut took to his heels after them, pleased and proud of himself for passing the tests.

Yet he couldn't shake the sense that Baze had, for that short moment on the sparring platform, wanted Chirrut the way Chirrut wanted Baze, and if that was all the Chirrut was ever going to get, then the Force was a far too selfish and hurtful thing to believe in.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have been away due to Stuff(tm) but i have planned this all out and i will finish this fic, i promise. sorry for the long wait!


	7. Chapter 7

The news that Chirrut defeated Baze raced around the entire temple. At first, most dismissed the idea outright. A fourth duan acolyte beating Baze Malbus! It was unheard of. No one asked Chirrut, of course. He had always been a foolish show-off, always trying to get attention. A silly jester who wouldn’t amount to much.

Then Baze himself confirmed it to a few friends, which turned the defeat into a great sensation. Chirrut Imwe became a celebrity among the fifth and sixth duan acolytes. Some senior acolytes who had always avoided Chirrut started talking to him, many asking for details of the fight with Baze. Not wanting to diminish Baze’s prowess, Chirrut made sure to keep his tale unembellished, and attributed his victory to a stroke of luck.

Initially, Chirrut liked the attention. His friends ribbed him for the sudden spurt in popularity. However, after a week or so, those who came up to talk to Chirrut didn’t want details about the fight - they wanted to battle Chirrut instead. If not for the steadfast Dai staying close to Chirrut all the time, the seniors would have fought Chirrut regardless of his choice. Dai told him to report the seniors to the masters.

***

“They just want to prove that they can beat the acolyte who beat Baze,” said Chirrut. They were in Fedan’s temporary quarters after the evening meal, helping their friend catch up with the day’s lessons. Master Falli, the other master Chirrut had met on wall duty, told Fedan that he would be pupating soon, and had sent him to nest there. Chirrut wanted to curl up and nest somewhere too. It had been a very long day. “Reporting them won’t make them back off, Dai. They’d just look for chances to jump me. At least right now they’re not launching sneak attacks.”

“Who are the ones targeting you anyway?” Fedan asked. His carapace was a dull, mottled green, and the temporary quarters resembled the inside of a hive. There were only ten holes in it, however; few of Fedan’s species came to Jedha to study.

Chirrut frowned. “Uh... Tapper, Medu, D’Korlas last night, but Master Grysso came by and they left. Kell and Justo the day before, but then Sister Opalin intervened. Oh, and Brother Ul also, but he was very polite.” He shook his head. “Maybe I should just fight all of them and be done with it.”

Dai punched him on the shoulder. “Don’t even think about it. You’re not going anywhere without one of your friends with you, you hear?”

“Hope this whole silliness dies down before I get back,” Fedan grumbled. “What chapter is the class on?”

The study session passed with no incident, but as they exited Fedan’s room, they saw three sixth duan seniors lounging against the wall on the far end of the corridor, brooms in hand. The seniors saw Chirrut and Dai emerging, and grinned to one another.

Dai immediately tensed. “Tapper, Medu and Kell.”

Chirrut swallowed. “Yeah. With weapons.”

“Chirrut, we can’t beat three of them. Let’s get Fedan.”

“Dai, no. His carapace is brittle at the moment.” The young man squared his shoulders and put on a wide smile. “When the time comes, run.”

Flanked by the muscular Medu and stout Kell, Tapper strolled up to the two fifth duan acolytes. “Sister Dai. Brother Chirrut. Fancy seeing you two here.”

Raising her chin defiantly, Dai retorted, “The corridor is still very dusty, Brother Tapper.”

“Our business is not with you, Dai.” Medu pointed at Chirrut. “We just want to spar, Imwe.”

“Cornering me really doesn’t make _me_ want to spar,” Chirrut pointed out. However, he shrugged and added, “I guess I really should just get on with it. Dai, you go ahead.”

“Chirrut-”

“I’m not a child, Dai. I can take care of myself.” He would have to apologize for that afterwards.

She glared at him before stalking away. “Fine. I know when I’m not wanted.”

Tapper’s mouth quirked unpleasantly. He had a chipped tooth, Chirrut noticed. The older acolyte led the way towards the nearest training grounds. Medu and Kell closed ranks behind the youngest acolyte.

It was dark outside. The massive bulk of NaJedha was overhead, but its sun-facing side was not facing the moon. Medu flicked open a lantern and set it nearby.

“So all three of us want to prove that we’re better than Malbus,” Tapper said, tossing the broom he was holding to the side carelessly. Kell followed suit. “Seems like the easiest way is to beat the acolyte who beat him. Thing is, there are three of us and one of you, so... hey! Listen when I’m talking to you.”

Chirrut wasn’t paying attention. He was picking up the two brooms to set them against a wall. “Guys, if you don’t place those brooms properly, Master Olovai will be really ticked off.”

“You insolent-”

“He’s right,” said Medu.

Kell snorted and shook his head. “I don’t care. Look, Imwe, we all want the glory. Malbus has been in the spotlight for too long and we’re all sick of it. I’m not going to lie about that. So which of us will you fight?”

Chirrut shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.”

On hindsight, he realized that the statement came across arrogant. However, at that moment, Tapper was the one who snarled and shoved his way forward. “I’m fighting you, you stinking cannok.”

“Hey! Watch the name calling.” Chirrut balled up his fists. “Come on.”

Tapper charged. Despite his apparent anger, he wasn’t really fighting impulsively. In fact, he was surprisingly agile on his feet, despite being almost as large as Kell. Once or twice Chirrut was nearly struck by the edge of his meaty palm, dodging with barely an inch to spare. Tapper was not as fast as Opalin, so Chirrut only had to keep out of the way of his opponent as much as possible, all the while trying to see how he could neutralize Tapper .

Then he saw his opening. With a quick sidestep followed by an open-palmed strike to his chest, Chirrut sent Tapper stumbling back into Kell and Medu.

“You little-”

Medu held Tapper back. “Hey. He won, fair and square.”

Kell stepped forward. “My turn now.”

“What?” Chirrut was aghast. He was not prepared to have to face down a gauntlet. “Look, we can do this tomorrow, I’m really tired now after- Oof!”

The older acolyte hadn’t bothered listening and instead hit Chirrut with the same blow he had levelled Tapper with. Chirrut staggered back half a dozen paces. Kell pressed on with a series of kicks. Instead of evading Kell’s attacks, Chirrut countered each one with equally rapid kicks. The older acolyte was clearly out to get a cheap win at Chirrut’s expense and the latter wasn’t about to stand for that. When Kell tried a roundhouse, the younger man danced out of the way and immediately spun back in with a punch that landed on Kell’s nose. He followed that up by sweeping the older acolyte’s feet out from under him and punching him in the head again and again.

“Yield! I yi- ow! I yield!” Kell was shouting, but Chirrut was too exhausted and fed up to feel good about his win.

He got off of Kell and sat heavily on the ground. “Look. I won by chance, alright? I’d been training with Sister Vardann and she let me fight Baze once. That afternoon, he was distracted by something. I didn’t win because I am better than him. I won because he wasn’t at his best.”

He hadn’t bragged about beating Baze Malbus, not once. He didn’t even want to think about the fight now. Thinking about the fight would lead to thinking about how it ended, and that would lead to thinking about the way Baze had looked right into Chirrut’s eyes with an emotion Chirrut didn’t dare to name.

Medu helped Kell up to his feet and offered a hand to Chirrut. “From what I’ve seen, you _are_ better.”

Chirrut didn’t take the proffered hand but he did smile tiredly up at Medu. “Thanks. For what it’s worth, I do mean it about tomorrow. I don’t mind sparring but not when I’ve had seven straight hours of sutra recitation.”

Medu was about to reply when he was shoved unceremoniously aside. Tapper was behind, his glowering face partly shadowed.

“You arrogant little brat, you’re saying that you don’t even need your full strength to fight us?” he sneered. Before Chirrut could respond, Tapper kicked him so hard that he was bowled over.

“Tapper!” Medu yelled, but Chirrut couldn’t see why the muscular acolyte didn’t come to his aid; Tapper was stomping on the junior acolyte with all his might and viciousness. All Chirrut could do was try to protect his face and head.

Suddenly the stomping ceased. The silence was palpable. Chirrut risked lowering his arms and saw someone standing protectively over him. Though his rescuer was not facing him, Chirrut would know him anywhere.

Baze Malbus. Baze Malbus had come to save him again.

Chirrut sat up slowly, his sides and thighs aching. Baze half-turned, his gaze taking in the junior’s battered state.

“Dai, help Brother Medu to the healer. Ul, get Kell and Tapper to Master Olovai.” There was no disguising the controlled fury in Baze’s tone. The other two acolytes dragged their peers away.

Baze finally turned around fully and hunkered down to check on Chirrut. “Damn it. I hope Tapper is expelled for this.”

“What?”

“It’s not his first time starting fights or bullying a junior,” Baze said briskly. He prodded some of the sore spots on Chirrut’s face with a thick index finger. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know they would come looking for you. If I’d known-”

“It’s not your fault.” Chirrut caught hold of Baze’s finger and stared into his eyes. In the dim light of the one lantern, without even a star overhead, they were as good as being entirely alone in the galaxy. “You came to save me.”

Baze didn’t pull away. His low voice dropped even lower, gruffer, a rumbling bass that sent shivers racing down Chirrut’s spine. “Dai came to tell me. I rushed here as soon as I could. When I saw Kell hitting Medu and Tapper kicking you, I just... I lost it. Literally grabbed and threw Tapper halfway across the grounds. I don’t think... I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry.”

Chirrut’s heart skipped a beat. _Force preserve him. He cares for me._

“Of course I care for you,” Baze said, still in that strange, low voice. The junior acolyte then realized he had been speaking aloud. The older youth finally retrieved his finger, but began brushing sand and grit from Chirrut’s cheeks. His thumb accidentally dusted over Chirrut’s lower lip and he paused.

Chirrut didn’t look away from Baze. He placed his hand over the senior acolyte’s large, warm hand. “I like you,” he said simply. Then, panic set in. He stammered, “I know you don’t know me well enough to... to feel anything more than, um. Concern. But I’ve watched you, and... and I just. I like you. I don’t expect you to like me, not in any special way, but I-I just... I can’t help thinking that, maybe... That day, when we fought in the test. You - you were looking at me in a... in a different way. I don’t know what that means. I want it to mean something, but I don’t know if you meant it to mean something.”

For the first time since Baze knew him, the older acolyte looked away. He didn’t speak, but he also left his hand cupping Chirrut’s cheek. As time ticked by, Chirrut began to feel scared. Perhaps he had said too much.

However, before he could try to retract all his words, Baze leaned forward and touched their lips together. It was the briefest of kisses. Chirrut blinked stupidly as Baze drew away and stood up, extending his other hand to help the former to his feet.

“What does that mean?” Chirrut asked, still on the ground.

“It means,” said Baze softly, with a gentle teasing smile, “that you’ve just made my life very, very complicated, and I’ve returned the favor. Now come on. I want to be sure you don’t have cracked ribs or fractures anywhere.”


	8. Chapter 8

The aftermath of the three seniors seeking out Chirrut was rather straightforward. Medu was let off with a warning, once he was let out of the infirmary. Tapper and Kell were expelled from the temple in disgrace. Chirrut hadn't liked that, but the other seniors were relieved since the two were vicious bullies. Attacking Chirrut and Medu when they were unprepared had been the last straw. In any case, Chirrut and Medu became friends after they had to stay in the infirmary together, much to their mutual surprise.

In the entire intervening three weeks since the incident, Chirrut didn't see Baze at all. Rumor had Baze and Vardann stationed in the kyber mines with sixteen other acolytes. The miners were not sensitive to the crystal, so senior acolytes directed them to viable seams. It didn't seem fair to Chirrut for Baze to kiss and disappear, but there were other matters to be concerned about. Lessons as a fifth duan were tougher, and all the instructors expected a lot more from all of them. While Chirrut wished he knew where he and Baze were, it was also good that he didn't have time to dwell on it.

***

One afternoon, Medu hunted Chirrut out. “I'm running an errand out near the marketplace by the east wall. You're not busy now, are you?”

“No, not really,” said Chirrut. He was supposed to be sweeping out the dorm corridors, but Dai and Groluk had lost bets to him on which date Fedan would shed his case, so they had been stuck with that boring chore.

Medu grinned. “Come on. If we get done early, we might even have time for a drink.”

“Ooh, I want kilri juice.”

The pair slipped out the side door. Medu was not much taller than Chirrut, though a lot more muscular, and his features rough-hewn. For all that external gruffness, Medu was an interesting conversationalist. It was fun for Chirrut to have someone who liked chatting the way he himself did.

The errand was quite simple. Medu had to bless three newborn babies with a ritual of abundance, and Chirrut helped by passing the senior acolyte the needed intruments. Four lines of crimson paste on the babies' limbs, a dab of the same paste on each tiny, scowling forehead, and finally a tiny drop of honey on their little pink tongues.

“May the force be with you,” said Medu to the proud and tired-looking parents. He tickled the baby closest to him under the chin, who took the acolyte's finger and chomped on it toothlessly. “And with you, nibble.”

The parents gave them the customary package of gratitude – new blankets, dried foods, home-brewed wine. The items were not of the best quality Chirrut had ever seen, but they were presented with such sincerity that the younger acolyte was touched.

As they walked down the narrow flight of steps back into the marketplace, Chirrut asked, “Do parents often request for acolytes to perform blessings?”

“It was what they could afford,” said Medu. “Master Poa did offer, but the couple had preferred someone less exalted. I think they thought that their gift would have been an insult to a full Guardian.”

They stopped at one of the many stands selling juices. They found a shady place to lean against near the stand. Medu bought Chirrut his kilri juice and then said, in an off-handed manner, “So what's up with you and Malbus?”

Chirrut nearly choked on his tangy kilri juice. “What? Nothing. Nothing is up with, um. We-we're just friends. Why? Why would you ask?”

“Because he came to rescue you,” Medu said simply. “Malbus seldom involves himself with the happenings of other people. Sometimes I think he doesn't even realize they exist.”

“You don't sound like you approve of him.”

The senior acolyte tilted his head and studied Chirrut. “I neither like nor dislike him. I think he's too narrow in his focus, in his chase. All he thinks about is serving the temple. And the thing is...” Medu chewed on the side of his cheek, brows furrowed, clearly trying to formulate the words. “The thing is, the Temple isn't everything.”

Chirrut frowned at that. “Why not? That's why we're learning to be guardians.”

Medu shook his head. “You're misinterpreting my words.”

“Maybe you need better ones.”

“You're annoyed with me,” the older acolyte said with a quiet smile. “Look, I know that, to many of the juniors, Malbus is an ideal. He works hard, he's devoted to the temple, he's intelligent. You're not the first to idolize him. But I have been in the temple since before Malbus came in, and I see a lot more of who he is as a person.” He paused, and finished his drink. “I don't mean that you shouldn't admire his good qualities, I'm just saying you should look at him as a person and not a hero.”

His cheeks growing hot, Chirrut slurped up the rest of his kilri juice. Eventually he found his voice. “I don't think it is a bad thing to be fully committed to the temple,” he said. “We should all be so lucky to have a desire to serve something greater than ourselves.”

Medu chuckled and shook his head again. “If you say so.”

***

The two were on the way back for afternoon duties when they heard a siren wailing from the top of the temple in a pattern Chirrut had never heard before.

Medu froze for a heartbeat. Then he broke into a sprint. Although he didn't know what was happening, Chirrut followed. Other guardians and acolytes soon joined them, all pelting towards the heart of the temple. There was also a shrill keening inside Chirrut's ears, like a high-pitched whine tuned straight to the brain. He wondered if he had tinnitus.

When they got to the temple, it was ringed with guardians and acolytes of all ages. Some looked confused, like Chirrut; they were there because everyone else was there. The older guardians were grim. Guardian Grysso was at the great bronze doors, holding it closed. “Acolytes up to the sixth duan, prepare the infirmary block for multiple casualties. Junior guardians, prepare rescue equipment, go! Full guardians, teams of four at a time, two hours each time. The crystals are singing and we don't know how long it will be before they're silenced.”

“What's going on?” Chirrut hissed at Medu.

Before the senior acolyte could respond, Master Grysso provided the answer. “The mines have collapsed, but the Abbot detects signs of life within. We don't know how long it will take to save them. There were a hundred and seventeen sentient beings who went in there; may the Force help us retrieve a hundred and seventeen of them from the mines.”

Chirrut only heard _'the mines have collapsed'._ Everything else was a blurry hum.

_The mines have collapsed._

_Baze is in the mines._

“Imwe, come on. We need to clear out the infirmary block.” Medu tugged on Chirrut's elbow.

Numbed with shock, Chirrut followed. He obeyed the instructions belted out by the seniors, hauling towels and sheets around, and helped the healers to lay out reams of bandages as well as fill up tanks and tanks of oxygen.

All the while he could only think, _Baze is in the mines._

***

By the fifth shift of the rescue effort, only twenty had been saved. Most of them were the miners, whose helmets and thick, padded clothes helped to protect against the worst of the collapse. Three acolytes had been rescued as well, but they couldn't stop screaming until they were sedated into insensibility.

“The kyber song must have been too much for them,” said one of the healers.

Another medic concurred. “I can still hear the hum of the crystals. Let's hope they won't lose their hearing.”

“Or have their brains scrambled,” the first one muttered.

Chirrut was scrubbing blood stains from one of the steel tables where they had to patch up a miner's broken shin. He bit the inside of his lower lip and scrubbed harder.

***

Sixth shift, another twenty-three and the first death.

Seventh shift, another sixteen. Eight more deaths. The healers told half the acolytes to shut their eyes and rest in a separate room and take over in another six hours.

Eighth shift, two alive, nineteen dead. The entire infirmary was very subdued as they hauled in the bodies. One of them had been Sister Opalin. Chirrut found himself sitting in a corner, tears running down his face.

Ninth shift, nothing and no-one.

Tenth shift, the crystals shrieked for the full two hours, forcing the masters and junior guardians to counter the kyber song with a mantra that dulled the edges of that insistent, high-pitched hum.

Eleventh shift, nothing and no-one.

Twelfth shift, five alive, three dead. Chirrut was dragged by Groluk to rest on one of the cots. He shut his eyes and fell into a dreamless, uneasy sleep. He was awake by the end of the shift.

_Baze is in the mines._

***

Knowing that the medics would not let him take on any duty while he was supposed to be resting, Chirrut slipped outside and walked to the temple doors. No one was standing guard now. All those who were awake were working to rescue the remaining twenty still trapped inside.

 _Baze is in the mines_.

The entrance to the mines was below the main prayer hall. Chirrut had only been there twice, once for a lesson, once on a dare. He had never gone inside the mines.

As he neared the mines, there was more activity and the humming in his head grew louder and louder. He winced. Clenching his fists, Chirrut slipped inside.

A group of guardians had just come out of the mine shaft. Their faces were red and they were all grimacing, each of them murmuring a mantra under their breath as they tried to counteract the effects of the screaming kyber. Medics were already carrying the rescued onto stretchers. Chirrut slipped behind the group. The kyber song grew impossibly louder and he clapped his hands over his ears.

It didn't help.

“Say your mantra,” the guardian closest to him said. “It will ease the pressure.”

He prayed under his breath. _The Force is with me and I am with the Force. The Force is with me and I am with the Force._ The simple prayer did ease the headache, although it did not remove the stabbing pain entirely.

The next one the guardians placed on the stretcher was Vardann. Chirrut gasped in air, relieved beyond measure. She was breathing, from what Chirrut could tell, even though her face crumpled into agony every time she had to inhale.

_Baze is in the mines._

The air was stale and clammy. Too many people in too small a space without ventilation. How deep did the shaft go? How far had Baze gone?

_Where is Baze?_

Chirrut couldn't shake off a sudden piercing pain in the back of his skull. One hand reached out to support himself against the wall.

The pain doubled, trebled; he forced it down as much as he could, but it was nearly impossible. He should have stayed in bed. Then he saw who was led out next, stumbling, his hair shaken loose in a messy pile of tangled curls.

_Baze is in the mines._

“Baze,” Chirrut whispered, for a moment dropping his guard.

The kyber crystals caught his elation. The crystals sang out his overwhelming joy.

Chirrut clutched his head and fell to his knees, screaming.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this is a short chapter, but it had to end where it did. i am trying to complete this fic asap so keep watch for updates.
> 
> thank you!

When Chirrut finally surfaced to consciousness, his first thought was that he was parched beyond belief. His tongue was felt thick and tacky; his throat dry as the Jedhan desert.

“Don't try to speak.” It was Fedan's voice, now with a slight buzzing undertone. “Open your mouth.”

Chirrut obeyed and a small cube of jelly was placed on his tongue. It gently dissolved into liquid, not water, but something very close to it, with a faintly medicinal aftertaste. He opened his mouth for a second serving and received it.

Fedan's adult carapace clicked as he settled down beside his friend. “You shouldn't have gone into the mines, Chirrut. You weren't cleared for it.”

“What happened?”

“I told you, don't try to talk. Just mouth your questions,” Fedan scolded. Then he went on, “The Abbot said that the crystals were hyper-reactive from a quake and amplified their song, whatever it is, and anyone who was sensitive to kyber and wasn't properly shielded got hit by the vibrations.”

Even as his friend was explaining, Chirrut could feel dread spreading throughout his veins. There was something deeply wrong, and he feared giving a name to it. Speaking it aloud would make it real.

Fedan had fallen silent. He didn't want to be the one to say it.

Chirrut wasn't a coward; this wasn't something he could escape. He took a deep breath and, his fingertips shaking slightly, reached up to touch the bandage over his eyes.

“How bad is it?” he whispered hoarsely.

“Seven of the acolytes who went inside the mines suffered blinding headaches, loss of hearing, and loss of vision,” Fedan said tonelessly. “They had been too tired or overwhelmed to keep up the counter-mantras after the crystals went haywire.”

Chirrut's throat closed up. He coughed, clearing it,and then exhaled slowly. “Guess I'm lucky.”

He reached out to grasp Fedan's forelimb and held on, squeezing as tightly as he could. Unbidden tears seeped into the bandage around his eyes. He would grieve his loss for a few minutes, he told himself. It had been his own damn fault, venturing where he shouldn't have. Letting down his guard in the mines that Master Olovai explicitly told the class were out-of-bounds until later in the fifth duan.

_The Force is with me. I am with the Force. Nothing will take me away from that._

After he calmed himself a little more, he asked, “Are Vardann and Baze alright?” He had only known the two of them and Sister Opalin in the group of senior acolytes down in the mines, and Opalin was dead. Chirrut swallowed down a small pang of sorrow for the senior who nearly bested him.

“Baze has temporary hearing loss and exhaustion, but he is currently recuperating. Sister Vardann is fine, just superficial injuries. The miners with them said that Baze never stopped the counter-mantra until they were rescued.”

A tight knot in his chest loosened. Chirrut managed a small smile at Fedan, or at least where he assumed Fedan's face was. “You've been here all the while?”

Fedan's mandibles clicked. “Took turns with Groluk, and Dai. Wan Medu came by once this morning.”

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome. Also, you're an idiot.” Fedan made a soothing, clicking sound. “Now get back to sleep.”

***

Chirrut was discharged from the infirmary two days after. Dai Lodea was the one guiding him back to the dorms. It was disconcerting to feel like a stranger in a place he had lived in practically his entire life; he bit back the anger at himself.

_The Force is with me and I am with the Force._

“We'll need to get you an echo-box or a stick,” said Dai, the cheerful note in her voice clearly forced. “The library is completing its project of archiving all the ancient texts so they can be read by holo-readers too. You won't fall too far behind in – Brother Malbus.”

“Baze?” Chirrut whispered. He wished he could see for himself if the older acolyte was fully recovered, if he had any scratches or wounds.

“I'd like to speak with Chirrut for a while,” said Baze. His low voice was as pleasant as before. “Please.”

Dai squeezed Chirrut's elbow where she had been holding. “Just help him to his dorm afterwards.”

Baze must have nodded, because Dai left Chirrut standing alone in the middle of a hallway – he didn't even know which hallway, and that brought another surge of bitterness.

“I'm glad you've been discharged,” Chirrut said.

“I was about to say the same thing,” said the other acolyte. He walked forward, the deliberate sturdiness of his steps an indication of how far Baze had been standing. He stopped right in front of Chirrut, so close that the latter could smell the antiseptic on Baze. “I am so sorry for this. It was all my fault.”

Chirrut wanted to laugh, but it would have been hurtful to Baze. Instead he smiled ruefully and shook his head. “I was the one who went where I shouldn't have gone. That's nothing to do with you.”

Baze's hand on Chirrut's elbow was warm, but more astonishing to Chirrut was how it was shaking. Baze lowered his voice and murmured, “I needed to see you. I'm afraid I won't get the chance after.”

The younger man wished he had some humor left in him to say that he could not return the favor, but the second part of Baze's sentence caught his attention. “What do you mean?”

“I was the one who caused the mines to collapse,” Baze admitted, his melodious voice breaking with guilt and pain. “It was me.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why yes 3 updates over a weekend! i will wrap this up soon-ish and proceed to complete my other WIPs.
> 
> a short chapter again but i hope you like it anyway!

If Chirrut could still see, he'd be staring at Baze.

As it was, he gaped. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I did something to the kyber,” Baze whispered hoarsely. “I-I said something stupid and it set off the crystals and the resonance just kept building until the _entire shaft_ was shaking and...” He inhaled sharply. “I've been trying to tell someone but no one wanted to listen, they just kept telling me to rest or kept sedating me. Today is the first day I'm allowed out of bed, and I'm going to the Abbot to confess, but I just wanted to be sure you're alright, except you're not, and it's my fault!”

Chirrut had never heard Baze talk that much that agitatedly. He wondered if the other acolyte was panicking, if he was actually pale and crying, or flushed and shaking with nerves. He yearned to touch Baze's face, just to be sure, but it wasn't the time. Instead he just reached out his left hand, palm up, hoping that Baze would at least take his hand.

After a few seconds, Baze did.

Chirrut tightened his grip. Baze's fingers were cold. “I'd like to go with you.”

“You-you should go to your dorm,” Baze mumbled. He sniffed, thus confirming to Chirrut that brave and strong as Baze Malbus was, he was still a young man who was terrified that he had caused the deaths of so many.

“Let me rephrase. If you were to be banished from the temple, I would like to steal as much time with you as I could.” He called up a small smile from his reserves of optimism. “I don't believe you caused the collapse.”

Baze made an unattractive snorting sound, halfway between a sob and a laugh. However, he did take Chirrut's hand and led him in a different direction.

 _I want to hold his hand forever,_ Chirrut thought. If Baze really did do something to the mines by accident – he would _never_ have done it on purpose, Chirrut knew that – then the Abbot wouldn't banish him.

They got to the Abbot's quarters far sooner than Chirrut wanted. He smelled the familiar incense in the air just before they took the seven steps up into the narrow space of the Abbot's room. When the elderly guardian called for them to enter, Chirrut felt Baze's hand tighten on his.

“Malbus,” said the Abbot kindly. “Your hearing has returned, the healers tell me.”

“Yes, Abbot.”

“And young Imwe. You have finally learned why the masters set down rules.” The kindly tone with which the Abbot spoke made her words sting less. She added, “Let not the loss of your vision take away your joy of being. I anticipate more pranks from you, young Imwe, and I predict that you will learn how to see beyond what sight can offer.”

The young acolyte swallowed down a suspicious lump in his throat. He had always liked the Abbot, because of her bright eyes that never ceased to be warm and kind, and the way her wrinkled face always seemed wreathed in smiles. He would miss being able to see her, but even now, he could vaguely sense her presence, a glimmering outline of _compassion-determination-faith_ in his dark world. He nodded. “Thank you. I won't let you down.”

“And now for you, Malbus.”

Baze stirred next to him and let go of his hand. “Abbot, I-”

“You think you caused the mines to collapse,” said the Abbot. “You've been saying it ever since you were rescued, Baze Malbus. I however do not believe that to be true. Why would you think so?”

“Because I-I said something that set off the kyber.”

The Abbot paused. “What _really_ happened, my child?”

It was a gentle, motherly tone that broke Baze. He stammered, “I told Vardann that I couldn't be guardians with her, not as a bound pair, and she didn't take the news well.”

The Abbot sighed. “I assume there was an altercation.”

“No, Vardann never – we didn't fight. But she was sad, understandably so, and disappointed in me, I tried to reassure her that she would always have my respect and friendship but-” Baze gulped audibly. Chirrut heard a sturdy thunk beside him and when Baze next spoke, his voice was around the level of Chirrut's belly. “My words angered her, and I let myself be angered by her response. My hand was on a seam and the crystal picked up my emotions.”

The Abbot hummed. Chirrut could almost hear the gentle smile in her words. “The kyber may be sensitive, and you powerful in your devotion, but you alone cannot set off a chain resonant reaction.” She added briskly, “What you do not know is that just before the mines collapsed, there was seismic activity on the other side of NiJedha. While the tremors were too faint for us to sense, the great veins of kyber that thread through this moon shook and trembled. My dear Malbus, are you so arrogant to think that the words of a young man, not yet a guardian even, were enough to shake the very foundations of this temple?”

Chirrut could only imagine the stunned relief settling over Baze. He reached down blindly and accidentally tangled his fingers in Baze's hair (it was so _soft_ ) and quickly moved his hand to the older acolyte's shoulder to squeeze it.

The Abbot continued, “The Force gives and the Force takes. It is a hard lesson to remember, and so we have been reminded of it. We have been stagnant for a while, complacent in our impregnability, and thus a tremor has shaken off our arrogance. As I hope it has done to yours, Malbus.” She sighed deeply. “For the lives lost, we will grieve as necessary, and in turn do better to honor their memory. Go back to your room, Malbus, after you lead Imwe back to his.”

Baze sounded like he had been crying when he said, “Thank you Abbot.”

“Malbus,” the Abbot added, almost as an afterthought, “You would do better to remain in the sixth duan a little longer. I want you to attend to the pilgrims for the next hundred days. It will help you become a better guardian.”

Baze thanked the Abbot once more before he rose to his feet in a rustle of rough-woven cloth. He took Chirrut's hand again and led him to the dormitories. This time, as earlier, they didn't converse, not until the younger acolyte was safely in his room.

“Baze, wait,” Chirrut blurted. He heard Baze stop in the hallway. “Vardann... and you?”

“She knows I like you more,” Baze said bluntly. “Her pride was hurt, but she's a good person regardless. I'll find a way to make it up to her – I don't want to lose that friendship.”

Chirrut smiled. “Good. And, um. Thank you. For taking me along with you to the Abbot.”

Baze huffed in amusement. “I needed courage, Imwe. You make me feel brave.”

With that, the senior acolyte left. Chirrut remained at the door, listening until the footfalls could not be heard anymore.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter.  
> Thank you for reading this.

Everyone was very careful around Chirrut for the rest of the day. They kept out of his way, or warned him in a nervous tone just before he made a move in any direction. They kept apologizing for using phrases like “I see” or “watch out” when he was there.

Part of him felt resentful that they would treat him differently, even though he understood why they were treating him differently. He was different. He was blind, newly blind, lost in a place that used to be familiar enough that he could get around without thinking. He had to keep pretending that he was blindfolded for fun, and let his feet remember the way.

He was still Chirrut Imwe. He was still the same acolyte who laughed and played pranks, who did reckless stunts. He acted without thought because he preferred taking direct action to extended contemplation. Him venturing into the mines was par for the course, even if the blindess was an outcome no one wanted.

The pity of his peers tasted bitter and vile enough that he decided to head up into one of the watchtowers, almost out of spite. _Let them worry,_ he thought. _That poor blind Chirrut, what if he can't find his way back here?_

The tower he had chosen was the one he had been stationed previously on night duty. The cold, dry air still bit at his ears and nose. He tugged the thin scarf around his face. For a moment he wished he could enjoy the view of Jedha, with its arteries of streets and capillary system of alleyways glowing golden in the night.

“At least I won't have dry eyes,” he said aloud.

Someone off to his left chuckled.

Chirrut nearly fell over in shock. “Who's there?”

“It's me,” said Vardann. “I'd say it's good to see you, but I can't be honest about that.”

“I'd say it's good to see you,” Chirrut replied, “but I'd be lying too.” He smiled in the direction of her voice, but very quickly the corners of his mouth fell. “I... I've heard from, um, Baze. About what happened. I'm sorry.”

Vardann sighed. “It's not something to apologize for, Imwe. Baze fell for you. Such things happen.”

“Still-”

“I know you didn't go out of your way to seduce him.”

Chirrut blushed. His neck and ears felt very warm and he was suddenly very glad that he was wrapped up in a scarf.

Vardann said, “Come sit with me. About four paces to your right.”

The young acolyte found his way to the narrow bench where those on duty could take a short break during their watch. It was quite awkward, trying to grope for the seat, but Vardann didn't help him at all. That pleased Chirrut, somehow. At least one person in this entire temple didn't think he needed help.

Vardann sighed again. Chirrut could feel her shifting in her seat. “Is he still feeling guilty over the mines?”

“He was,” said Chirrut. “The Abbot spoke with us. Him. It's alright now, I think.”

“Good.” Vardann hesitated, then patted Chirrut's knee. “Did he tell you what he told me? The exact words?”

“No.”

“Good.”

The senior acolyte didn't seem forthcoming with the information, so Chirrut assumed that it would be better for him not to pry. Instead, he asked, “When will you take guardianship?”

“In three weeks. Baze was supposed to take it with me but, well... That's fallen through, I suppose.” Vardann clicked her tongue impatiently. “How am I supposed to find someone who is as attuned to me and my style in three weeks?”

“I'm sure there are other seniors who can match your style...”

“But they're not Baze Malbus,” she snapped. Frustration colored her voice. “I know it's not your fault that he fell in love with you, I could tell even before he knew it that he had feelings for you, but I wasn't expecting him to pull out of our agreement to be guardians together. It's not fair to me, Imwe, not when we've been working so hard for three kriffing years.”

Feeling guilt gnaw at his conscience, Chirrut said, very timidly, “I could ask him to... to take guardianship with you.”

“No,” Vardann replied immediately. “We can't get that same rapport back.”

“He still wants to be your friend.”

“I never said he couldn't. I just-” Vardann made an exasperated growling noise in the back of her throat. “Why am I telling you this? You, of all people! Imwe, I was _this close_ to getting everything I wanted in life, and you just, just showed up and disrupted all my plans. I should be _pissed_ at you. And I can't! It's not your fault, and it certainly isn't Baze's fault for falling for you, and it sure as the Whills isn't mine. I just... I just want something to blame. Someone or something I can point to and say, 'That is the problem.' Then I can solve it.”

She got up and paced about, pausing occasionally to kick at the walls. Chirrut stayed where he was and bit his lower lip. His fingers laced together.

Finally Vardann returned to sit by him. “Chirrut Imwe.”

“Yes?”

“I want you to promise me something.”

“Uh... depends on what it is.”

“Promise me that you'll take guardianship with Baze Malbus and that you boss him around.”

“What? Why?” Chirrut stuttered. “I mean, the first part, sure, but the second?”

Vardann snorted. “Because no one else does except me! He doesn't _really_ have a swelled head, of course, but if no one treats him like an ordinary man, then he'd get used to thinking he is the best at everything. Boss him about. Kick his ass whenever you can. I can't do it so you have to take over.”

Chirrut wanted to laugh. He grinned weakly at her. “I don't think I can kick anyone's ass right now, to be honest.”

“I'll teach you,” Vardann declared. Then she exhaled heavily and added, “After I sort out my guardian pair problem.”

“Or...” Chirrut's mind raced. “Or you can take the guardianship without a partner.”

“Don't be stupid.”

“Why not?” Chirrut stood up, suddenly filled with an excited buzz. “You're smart, like _really_ smart, you're a great fighter, and there's no law requiring junior guardians to take the test with a partner. The only requirement is to pass the test.”

“Yes, one of which is an obstacle course.” Even though her words sounded dismissive, she seemed to be considering the idea.

“So what? We need all the guardians we can get, especially after... after...” Chirrut's throat closed up. He inhaled deeply, held his breath, and exhaled. “After the accident. After all that, you can't expect everyone to be able to pair off for guardianship.”

Vardann was very quiet. Finally, she said, “I'll think about it.”

***

Three weeks later, Vardann became Guardian Vardann, the first woman in sixty years to attain guardianship solo.

Baze was the first to congratulate her.

***

Life went on.

Chirrut busied himself with re-learning how to navigate the world around him. Gradually his friends stopped making concessions for his blindness, for which the young man was grateful. He would rather have to fight for a place at the table than be awarded a feast out of pity. The masters asked Chirrut to share about his mishap so the juniors wouldn't be tempted to sneak into the mines without prior preparation. It was one of the more surreal moments of his life, talking about how he became blind; Chirrut was glad he didn't have to look at the faces of his peers and juniors when he gave the Talk. 

Baze Malbus quietly retreated from the spotlight, and instead spent his days tending to the pilgrims. His evenings he reserved for helping to clear out the mines. While junior acolytes still had classes, the senior acolytes were assigned to aid in the reconstruction effort; it was dangerous work repairing the damage, and the price of already extracted kyber soared. New wealth flowed into the temple but no one was pleased about it. More and more pilgrims flocked to the holy city and the Pilgrims' House was packed. 

Much of the work there was menial but necessary, Baze told Chirrut when the latter finally broached the subject. “I wash feet, feed the infirm, and clean soiled bedding. Many of them have come seeking relief for their pains and ills, or to pray for the fortunes of their offspring.”

Chirrut patted Baze's hand, which was already clasped between his own. “Your duty will last only for a little while longer.”

“I think I will stay there.”

“What?” Chirrut frowned. “Why?”

Baze leaned his forehead against the side of Chirrut's head. “There are too few guardians on duty there. I have strong arms and a sturdy back that can ease much of their burdens.”

“You're a good man, Baze Malbus.” Chirrut smiled and leaned against the older acolyte.

Even though Baze was no longer with Vardann, he didn't spend a lot of time with Chirrut. They were both too busy with their respective duties. However, what time they did have together, they made sure to learn more about each other. To Chirrut's delight, Baze had a dry and dirty sense of humor that he hadn't expected, and was a physically affectionate man in private.

“The day of the collapse, Medu told me that you are too focussed on the temple and not enough of its people,” Chirrut murmured. He tried not to think about that day - the overwhelming fear that Baze was lost to darkness forever, the deaths of his seniors and the miners, the loss of his vision. His fingers clung to Baze's sleeve and he shivered.

Baze kissed the side of Chirrut's neck and rubbed his back soothingly. “Medu's not wrong.”

“He wasn't wrong about you before, perhaps, but he is wrong _now_ ,” the younger man argued. He snuggled closer to Baze. “I mean, how often have we been warned that we'd be sent to the Pilgrims' House if we mess up? It's practically a synonym for penance. And you _want_ to stay there. You're a good man.”

“Mm. And I'm a great kisser too.”

“Eh. I'd say a fair kisser, not that great.” Chirrut patted Baze's cheek. “Could do with more practice, really.”

“Really?” Baze's voice became a low, mischievous growl. “Well then.”

***

***

“You know he's not here yet, right?” Fedan said.

“Of course I don't,” said Chirrut, still beaming in the direction of the landing pad. “I _am_ blind, you know.”

His best friend snorted and clicked his mandibles. “I thought you'd be less insufferable after losing your sight. I wonder why I think that.”

“How dare you,” said Chirrut with mock-outrage. “I am imminently sufferable. Ask Baze anytime.”

He could practically _hear_ Fedan roll his compound eyes. “I'm just glad he's the one suffering you.”

Another ship landed and Chirrut brightened up even more. “He's here.”

After a moment, Fedan asked, “How in the _Force_ -?”

“Just because I'm blind doesn't mean I don't see,” Chirrut intoned, hand over heart, pretending to be a master instructing acolytes.

“You are _insufferable_.”

There was a cheer from the others waiting. Fedan scoffed, but his voice was gruffly proud when he said, “He's got it. He's holding the uneti aloft.”

Chirrut grinned widely. Of course Baze got it. He was a Guardian of the Whills, after all.

He must have said it aloud, because Fedan smacked the back of his head and retorted, “As are we both. Now go on, welcome him home.”

Even though he wanted to crack wise about how a proper welcome would be drastically improper for the venue, Chirrut only jogged down the steps – something that never failed to scare the acolytes – and ran right up to Baze. No one had quite figured out how Chirrut always knew where Baze was.

The older man must have handed the prized sapling to another because he caught Chirrut up in his arms, planting a kiss on his partner's upturned face. “Hey.”

Chirrut smiled “Hey. Welcome home.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Please buy my original novel!](https://www.akleewrites.com/)


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